


Vengeance

by JustBFree5



Category: Revenge (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-05 02:56:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustBFree5/pseuds/JustBFree5
Summary: Nolan and Emily, from the very beginning.





	1. Past is Prologue

That day had started as any other day for Nolan Ross.

He woke up beside his boyfriend at 6am. He took a shower, brushed his teeth, dressed for the day and sipped at a cup of coffee while checking on his stock market share as he waited for Marco to finish his own shower and get dressed so they could drive in to work together.

It was a Tuesday, which meant it was Marco's turn to drive them in his car, a smart silver Lexus. When it was Nolan's day to drive, they would take his black BMW. They were running a bit late, but what did that matter? Nolan was the CEO and Marco was his CFO, no one would give them any grief for being a little late for having stopped at a Starbucks on the way into the office.

_It pays to be the boss._ He mused as he looked out the window and took in the view from his high-rise apartment.

It was the year 2001 and things were going so very well. Nolan was fully coming into his own as a man. He had developed ideas upon ideas for new technologies and cyber applications, so many ideas that he'd had to establish his own company to contain and develop them. It had taken him years of determination and one small initial investment for NolCorp to get on its feet, and now it was fast becoming a known name in the budding cybertech industry.

And Nolan himself? Nolan Ross, the one who had dreamed as a child and studied as a teenager and struggled so damn hard as a young man?

For the first time in his life, Nolan Ross was happy.

The man had fought for this life and earned his happiness.

The money that his company was generating had bought him more than just mere things. Yes of course he enjoyed the flashy fast cars, for every man was still a boy at heart, and yes of course he was having fun showing off in fine clothes and dining out in five-star rated restaurants and being sought after by celebrities and journalists eager to hear his story.

Yes, the money and the fame that had come with his rising star was all very appealing to his vanity, but there was so much more that was shaping his life behind the scenes.

His money and his eccentric genius had bought him a measure of freedom. Where he had spent so much of his life hiding who he was behind library stacks and computer screens and thick Coke-bottle glasses, he now could live outside the shadow of his father and that small town in Vermont where he'd been so horribly stifled.

Here, now, after the new millennium and with so much rewarding hard work, Nolan Ross was free to flourish as the man he truly was. He was living a public life with his boyfriend and despite a measure of stigma, he was earning the respect of colleagues and rivals alike.

He and Marco were in love and building a real life together - this above everything was what had brought Nolan fully into himself as a man.

For the first time in the entire span of his life, Nolan Ross was loved and accepted, he was believed in and respected. He was gaining confidence and a strength he'd never known before.

_Yes. I'm happy,_ he thought as he felt the small bulge in his breast pocket. _Only one thing can make me happier._

He looked up and smiled as Marco came into the room and took up his briefcase and keys, ready to tackle another day at NolCorp.

"Are you ready?" Marco asked.

Nolan nodded and straightened his tie, at once nervous and excited for their day ahead.

Looking back on those days, at how sweet and relatively carefree a life he'd lead, Nolan sometimes wondered if what followed was somehow the cost for that happiness, if such happiness had had to be paid for by everything that came after.

To this day he still wasn't sure.

Nolan did miss those days, but he'd known down to his bones from that first day and the day that he'd kidnapped Amanda Clarke, that there would be no going back.


	2. Chapter 2

The media declared it the Crime of the Century.

Americon Initiative warned that this was only their first strike.

The people flooded the nation's streets for vigils, for protests and riots. The world had changed, this new method of mass killing would shape a dreadful future.

Those who lost a loved one had only one word for that day: horror.

* * *

 

Nolan Ross had watched the news footage much the same as anyone else in the world - shocked, numb with desperate denial, helpless to do anything but watch as flight 197 dipped from its path in the sky and came down like an arrow, striking the center of the city, piercing the heart of America.

His stomach twisted and his heart clenched. It had to be hundreds dead, the airline passengers and those in the city.

The news droned on. No commercials, just a constant stream of that awful footage and a skyline undone by this...this...

_Horror._

Nolan had had to pull himself away from the television, pacing the length of his office with a sick, dreadful energy - until he looked out the window and caught sight of the rising smoke in the distance.

The impact. The crash site.

The dead were burning only blocks away.

Over the ringing in his ears, it occurred to Nolan that, if he'd only had the money at the time he founded NolCorp, he might've chosen to house his company in a more centrally located building - his previous lack of funds had saved his life and the lives of everyone around him.

Dizziness washed over him and for a moment Nolan was sure he would be sick. At once he was cold and hot, his legs suddenly weak. He turned away from the window and leaned heavily on his desk, waiting for the moment to pass. He looked up, startled back to reality as Marco staggered into his office.

Nolan would never forget how Marco had been broken that day.

_"Nolan, Marisol was on that plane!"_

* * *

 

Nolan had done everything he could for Marco in private and everything he could for his employees and the panicking public.

Marco, he took away to his beach house. The man was inconsolable, the loss of his twin was a pain beyond words - the other half of his soul had been ripped from the world, never to speak or sing or laugh or love again. Marisol was gone, she was one woman among hundreds whose ashes lingered in the air surrounding a great flaming crater in the center of New York.

Nolan had met her several times over the course of his relationship with Marco and they'd gotten along very well. Aside from her wicked sense of humor and interesting views on politics, she had accepted Nolan - any man who could make her brother so happy was a friend to her, she'd told him.

_Marisol._

Lovely, charming and sweet. Nolan had allowed himself to think of her as his own sister when he thought of the future and of being embraced by the Romero family.

And now there was nothing left of her.

Not even a body to bury.

Marco had withdrawn inside of himself, shutting out the world that was still turning.

Nolan retreated from the city as well. The offices of NolCorp stood empty for weeks. Most of his employees were doing distance work, choosing to stay home with their families and wait for the Initiative's promised next attack. Nolan not only allowed this, he encouraged it. His people were too afraid to come back to the city and while he hated to admit his cowardice, he was afraid too.

The uplifting messages he wrote to his employees and his statements to news outlets were all bravado. So many words encouraging resilience, joining dozens of other public voices espousing the unique American ideals of resiliency, strength in the face of adversity and joining together during this time of uncertainty...

Empty words, all of them.

Hundreds of people were dead, hundreds more had been critically wounded.

Marco had lost his beloved Marisol and Nolan feared he would lose himself. On the occasion that Marco left their bed, it was only to rage at Nolan or raid the bar.

He allowed the abuse because he knew Marco didn't mean any of it and was only searching for a target; Nolan was simply convenient, the only other person in the house where Marco could focus his pain. And gods above, Marco was in such horrible, wrenching pain. When he was awake he could think of nothing else, when he slept he could dream of nothing else.

Nolan didn't know what to do.

He felt trapped. The one Nolan loved most now seemed to hate him and everything else in the world.

Nolan missed Marco, he wanted his friend back.

He wanted the world to feel safe again, but even his remote house in the Hamptons felt vulnerable, a great glass target built into the cliffs open to attack by bullets or a bomb. How changed he was now, how immediately jaded and paranoid and hateful.

All the happiness he'd fought for seemed a distant memory.

Nolan sighed and opened the desk drawer of his home office and retrieved the box he'd been carrying with him on that day. Yes, the last day where life was bright and full of love. He opened the box and stroked his thumb over the gold band nestled between the velvet inserts.

Marriage between men wasn't acknowledged legally - _yet_ \- but Nolan thought little of that. He'd had a plan in place for that day. Rather than going home after work, Nolan had intended to lure Marco up to the roof where a romantic dinner would be waiting.

Roses, champagne and the city laid out before them...

It'd been a beautiful plan, if a bit unoriginal. Nolan had known down to his bones the evening would have lead to one word, _yes_ , and two matching rings. It would have been a night to remember - passion and peace and pure joy. Their wedding would have brought the world to its knees for its glamour. Vera Wang tuxedos, Tiffany & Co. rings, the most majestic venue, the freshest flowers, the finest food and the most beautiful music.

All that splendor would be the show put on for the public, the Hollywood aspect of Nolan's life. There would be a more intimate wedding held in private for Nolan and Marco. Nolan's father would never accept his love for a man, and Nolan had had to make his peace with that. He had other family who would attend, and Marco had more than enough family to make up for Nolan's lack thereof.

Marisol would have given Marco away.

Those had been Nolan's plans, his great ideas for a beloved future.

But now?

Now, poor Marco was a shadow of himself.

Nolan hated all faiths but even he had grown desperate enough to pray for Marco to come back, for the world to make sense again.

He huffed and snapped the ring box closed, setting it back in its place and slamming the drawer shut.

__

* * *

 

Three weeks passed.

Weeks of fury as citizens turned on each other, driven by fear and confused anger. Three weeks of politicians bickering on television, radio hosts raging on every station, every talk show fixated on the crash.

The deliberate, targeted plane crash orchestrated by Americon Initiative.

Three weeks until a name was finally released to the public.

"...earlier tonight the FBI confirmed the arrest of David Clarke in connection with Americon Initiative's homeland terrorist network. Clarke, a hedge fund manager for the financial group Grayson Global, is seen here being taken into custody by US Marshals and..."

The television remote slipped from numb fingers as Nolan sank to his knees in the living room, horrified and unbelieving.

_David?_

David Clarke, _his_ David?

It couldn't be - it wasn't!

Through the deafening sound of a wind tunnel, there was Marco's voice. "Nolan...Nolan..."

The hand shaking his shoulder snapped Nolan out of his trance of denial. "Huh?"

Marco held out a phone to him, his eyes and voice still flat from the loss he'd suffered. It was only recently that Marco was starting to engage with the world again.

"It's your lawyer."

Head still buzzing with shock, Nolan took the phone and forced his eyes away from the screen splashed with David's mugshot - his _mugshot_ , for Christ's sake!

What the hell was happening?

Nolan cleared his throat. "Hello?"

"Good evening, Mr. Ross."

Denise Walker, his PR attack dog, was a consummate professional. The woman could be on fire and her voice wouldn't waver. She had made a lifelong habit of going above and beyond for her clientele, earning every penny of her exorbitant rates - which is why she had already put safe-guards in place and taken every step necessary to protect Nolan from the moment she'd learned of the David Clarke arrest. Calling Mr. Ross now was only a formality.

"Denise..."

"I trust you've seen the news, sir."

"I...yes, just now. Channel 5."

"I'm sure it won't surprise you to know that it's on every channel, sir."

No.

A face to finally put to the Initiative. A name to blame. A target for the collective rage and despair of the country.

No. It didn't surprise him that the world was watching.

"I..."

"I've already put together a statement distancing you from Mr. Clarke should it ever come to light that he was your initial investor, though I have buried that as well. Preservation of NolCorp's integrity is paramount, you cannot afford to be seen as associated with him in any way."

"He's my friend-" Nolan started.

"Mr. Ross. Your friend, your primary investor, has just been arrested in connection with a terrorist attack on American soil. Over 200 people have been murdered. You cannot help the man if you are viewed as an accessory."

"You want to help him too?"

"No." The voice on the other end of the line was firm and direct. "He's a prime suspect at this time but innocent until proven guilty. I'm not his lawyer, I don't care what happens to him. I'm _your_ lawyer, and I only care what happens to my clients. I know you want to help your friend, but you can't help him if you're arrested in connection with his alleged crimes. The best thing you can do for now is distance yourself. If you are ever approached by any members of the press, your only response is two words."

"He's innocent!" Nolan asserted.

"No comment." She corrected.

"I...all right." Nolan relented.

Denise was a great asset to him for this very reason - she was firm, direct and so logical she could shame a Vulcan. Nolan's friendship to the man meant nothing; if he wanted to help David, and he did, desperately, then he had to distance himself publicly and find a way to provide his aid in secret.

"Do you know what's going to happen to him?"

Denise rolled a pen between her fingers, content that her prize client was swayed to the gravity of the situation. She admired Mr. Ross very much; he was a man with a soft heart, but that soft heart of his could be used against him all too easily. Denise would do everything in her power to protect the man from himself - it was her prime directive to do so.

"There will be a federal hearing, but there's no chance in hell that Mr. Clarke will be granted bail. He has an exorbitant amount of money at his disposal, even with his private assets frozen. He has access to three private jets, he owns properties abroad and several of them are in countries with no extradition. He will stay in prison as the case builds and a trial is eventually held."

A thought struck Nolan, and he was ashamed that he hadn't thought of her sooner. "What about Amanda?"

Through the line, he could hear rapid keystrokes and mouse-clicks. "She was in the house with him when the FBI made the arrest."

"How do you know that? Do you know where she is?"

"I have a friend in the bureau." Denise confided. "She's been taken to Millhouse. It's a center for disturbed children."

Nolan shot to his feet. "What?! She's not disturbed!"

"She's being evaluated."

"We have to get her out of there. He's arrested and she's immediately taken to a mental institution? No, Denise, something's not right." Nolan cast his eyes about him, looking for his keys as rapid, half-panicked ideas chased each other through his head.

_This is wrong, everything about this is so wrong!_

As Denise had been sent a copy of the arrest report, she had dismissed the girl and moved on to put her protective measures for NolCorp and Mr. Ross himself in place. That Mr. Ross was showing concern for the girl now was telling - if Amanda Clarke was important to Mr. Ross, then Amanda Clarke was now important to Denise Walker.

"I am inclined to agree, Mr. Ross."

"Where'd you say she was, again? Millhouse, that's upstate isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

Nolan found his wallet and shoved it in his back pocket, then grabbed his keys and strode toward the garage where his car awaited him. "Stay put, I'm coming to get you."

"Why, sir?"

"We're going to Millhouse and getting Amanda out of there."

There was no other course of action that Nolan could take. He didn't even stop to tell Marco what was happening or where he was going. He had spent weeks living like a coward, hiding at home, terrified of the Initiative's next attack, taking all the abuse Marco could muster toward him, feeling helpless and confused and so damn worthless-

No.

That was over, all of it. Everything was clear now, and Nolan knew what he was going to do.

"Sir, I really must advise-"

Nolan closed his eyes, blocking her protests and focusing his thoughts - forcing out doubt, fear of failure and any caution of the law.

At once, he had only one goal.

One mission.

"Denise. We can't free David but we will free his daughter. Today. Whatever it takes."


	3. Chapter 3

Nolan Ross was ever a thinker.

At his core, he was still the dreamer who enjoyed reading and math, content to be left alone to his own devices. His mind was a thing of wonder - there was no machine, circuit or bit of chemistry that was beyond him, by all accounts the man was a genius.

A genius who had been relatively alone for years, until one man had come into his life and changed everything.

Nolan Ross had been a restless MIT dropout when David, distracted by troubles at home, had run Nolan's bicycle off the road.

Nolan had been all right but his bicycle hadn't been so lucky. David, hoping to avoid a lawsuit and also a decent human being, had offered Nolan a ride and in the course of a twenty minute drive, came to realize the massive untapped potential in the younger man.

From there grew a partnership that had borne NolCorp and changed the view of the entire technological landscape.

Being the focal point of such a massive impact on the world, Nolan had learned the importance of immediate adaptation.

In less than a decade, Nolan had gone from a frustrated dropout to a genuine tech idol whose favor could influence the tide of the American economy.

Genius, innovator, titan.

And yet Nolan never forgot where he came from nor could he ever, ever forget the man who had given him his start.

His friend and mentor.

The one man who had believed in him.

The one man who had listened.

David Clarke.

David Clarke, now accused and arrested as the lone suspect in connection with Americon Initiative's horrific terrorist attack that had left hundreds dead.

As it was, Nolan didn't know where David was or have the first idea of how to help him - but on learning that David' daughter Amanda had immediately been confined to a shaded mental hospital, Nolan knew what he had to do.

His lawyer, however, was less than convinced.

"Sir, this is all very sudden."

Nolan shuffled the documents that he'd typed up at her office while they'd had their ten minute brainstorm.

In all honesty Denise was surprised at this side of her client. She'd thought she'd played things out for him well enough over the phone in regard to burying his connection to David Clarke - for anyone to learn of the man's funding NolCorp was sure to spell an immediate end to the company and her client.

Mr. Ross understood the logic in that and had agreed to keep quiet, however he was dead-set on claiming Clarke's daughter and her every argument against this had fallen on deaf ears. He had come to collect her and laid out his half-cocked plan to stage this "rescue", as he insisted on calling it, which if the police became involved would land them both in a cell right next to David Clarke himself.

Still, Mr. Ross had made it clear that he was going after Amanda Clarke with or without her, so what else could Denise do but go along with this and make sure the man didn't get himself arrested?

"You always said you wanted Marco and I to make a solid commitment." Nolan reminded her.

Denise rolled her eyes at the man's joke. Did he even know how to care for a child? And Mr. Romero was not fit to be near a child at a time like this.

Especially _this_ child.

"I meant a dog! Have you even told him?"

Nolan shook his head and handed the folder to her. He looked out the window, satisfied to see that their driver had just exited the highway. It wouldn't be long now.

"No, I think it'll be a nice surprise."

"Mr. Ross-"

"Denise, I know how bizarre this all is. Believe me, I do, but none of this is right and you know it." The man took a deep breath and looked her, "I want Amanda Clarke out of that place in one hour. Am I understood?"

Denise's jaw worked back and forth, words longing to escape but she held her tongue. "Yes, sir."

Their driver slowed and then finally stopped before a bland administrative building, the words **Millhouse Behavioral Clinic** screened onto the front window. Nolan had skimmed the company website before hacking in for the layout of the entire facility. He knew that the building before them was for the head staff and that there was another, much larger building further in that housed the patients.

Amanda was in there, somewhere.

He turned back to Denise and took her hands into his; he knew she disapproved and was only going along with this to appease him, but it wasn't enough. He had to know that she truly believed in what he was doing.

Nolan furrowed his brow, "You've met her. Amanda is a girl who's got to be scared out of her mind, being caught up in all this. I'm going to give her a home until David is cleared. She is not her father. You know that, don't you?"

At his words, Denise sighed lightly. However misguided his actions, the man's heart was in the right place. For him, she would do this.

"Yes, Mr. Ross."

"That's all I needed to hear." He took in another deep breath, priming himself. "All right. Now, let's go get my girl."

* * *

 

"I understand that this is a unique situation, I do. But what I can't understand is why this child's legal guardianship was completely overlooked."

Under Denise's sharp stare, the clinic's head administrator cowered. Jim Dawson had had better days. A light sweat had broken over his brow and his stutter, once thought conquered, had resurfaced under her withering look. "It was...under the circumstances, we felt it would be necessary-"

"Necessary to seize a child during a police raid and confine her to a group home for disturbed children with no notice to her next of kin?"

Jim hurriedly cleared his throat and willed his hands to stop fidgeting. "Given who raised this child, every precaution needed to be taken in learning what she was exposed to."

At that, Denise barked out a harsh laugh. Oh, she was enjoying this. "And you thought the best place to take these precautions was at Millhouse? You and I both know this place is run like Arkham Asylum. Who's her therapist, Harley Quinn?"

At her joke, he shot to his feet, "That is completely unjustified-"

"No, what's unjustified is the seizure of a minor during a police raid, and her subsequent confinement to Millhouse, all done without cause, permission or even notification to her legal guardian."

"Amanda Clarke has no legal guardian-"

"No? Then what is this? A legal guardian declaration notarized by Judge Alberts ... I'm sure she'd love to know how many other patient's legal rights have been overlooked or, in this case, completely ignored." Denise slapped the packet down on his desk, then withdrew another from her folder. "And this? This is an immediate order to get Amanda Clarke out of that place. And this? This is just a blank sheet of paper waiting for you to type out a resignation letter citing your prejudiced lack of judgement where Amanda Clarke was concerned."

"You can't-"

"No, we already have. I suggest that the last phone call you make from this office is to alert the staff there that Nolan Ross and Denise Walker are on their way up to collect."

Jim blinked, sure he had misheard her. "Nolan Ross? You don't mean-?"

" _The_ Nolan Ross, yes. And trust me when I say that he sent me in to be the good cop, because the man is _livid_." Denise checked her watch. "He gave me an hour, but I'm not so patient. If Amanda Clarke is not under his care within the next ten minutes, I can promise that Mr. Ross will bankrupt you, Millhouse, and the entire state in a class action lawsuit that will be taken all the way to the Supreme Court if he wants it to, and I promise that he will do it with a smile. Are we clear?"

"Crystal."

Denise flashed her fangs in a shark smile. Mr. Ross never asked for much from her, but when he did, she always had her fun. "These records will be sealed. If even half a word of this is breathed to the public, Nolan Ross will bring down such a shitstorm over this office that you won't be fit to work turning tricks at the bus station in Juarez."

With that, Denise turned on her heel and stalked out of the office, slamming his door on her way out.

Nolan, who had been lingering in the hallway, had heard everything and sidled up to match her step, purring into her ear, "You have any idea how sexy you are?"

Denise hardly blinked at his compliment. "Of course I do, and so does my husband."

"Lucky bastard." He said enviously.

"That's what I keep telling him."

The hard clicks of her Louboutins echoed down the hall of the office, leaving Nolan glad to know that she was on his side.

* * *

 

There were certain things a man had to do himself.

Rescuing a friend was one of them.

He left Denise and their driver at the administration building and took the car himself up to the central facility. Denise was one of the few people he trusted, but outside of his personal trust, he knew she was bound by the law to maintain confidentiality with his actions - she could not break his trust without losing her career.

The driver, Nolan trusted him to keep the car on the road and his mouth firmly shut - the man had passed his background screening, which was good enough to keep him employed at NolCorp for the last three years with no issue. However, Nolan didn't trust the man enough to let him in on the real reason for their visit upstate; he'd been careful to have the soundproof screen up for the duration of their ride, no need to let any extra ears in on the details of this operation.

So, Denise and the driver stood outside the administration building and took a smoke break while Nolan sped up the drive, kicking up gravel in his haste to get to Amanda.

Denise had worked her magic on the staff, but he was on a clock. The documents that he'd cooked up wouldn't pass muster under hard scrutiny - he doubted the director would push for the police or a court to verify, not after that lovely and very graphic picture Denise had painted, but Nolan would err on the side of caution.

Besides, from the look of this place, he was sure Amanda would be happy to leave as soon as she could. He frowned up at the nondescript building, the hard angles and uninspired landscaping.

 _Not a place for children - but I can't help them, I'm here for Amanda. Only Amanda._ He thought. He parked at the front steps and slid out of the car, ready to go inside to collect her, but he stopped short on the steps at the sound of the front doors opening.

And there she was.

Amanda Clarke.

How could it be that, despite everything, Nolan felt his chest thrum with happiness at the sight of her?

And what a sight she was.

Gangly with an overbite, flat-chested, a bit pimply and too moody at this age to be wholly likable.

God, he loved her.

On recognizing him, she rushed forward and Nolan swept her into his arms, twirling her once and setting her back on her feet. He put his hands over her shoulders, holding her at arm's length. "Oh, Amanda, let me look at you."

She looked all right to him - her face wasn't bruised, she only looked a bit gaunt, which had to be from the stress of the past several weeks. He knew he appeared far from his best; grief and raging paranoia had a way to wear down on one's looks.

"What are you doing here?" She asked. She'd lowered her voice and looked around, clearly worried they would be overheard and Nolan understood at once.

Poor Amanda was truly afraid. Afraid of this place, the people here. She was afraid for her father and even more afraid of the hope Nolan had stirred in her.

"I'm here to take you home." Nolan said easily, reaching to her shoulder to take her backpack.

A relief unlike any she'd ever known swept over her. She wouldn't be alone. Nolan had come for her. Everything might still turn out all right. Childish hopes from a young woman who had had her childhood ripped away in more ways than one.

"Home?"

"My house." He clarified.

"Why?"

Nolan glanced up and could see movement in the windows of the building - whether staff or other patients, he didn't know, but it was all the reminder he needed that the clock was ticking.

"Nolan. You don't think dad really did those things...?"

Her question had him frowning, "What do you take me for? Of course David didn't do any of it, and you better believe that I'm going to prove it. Now, get in the car and don't look back."

His confident reply didn't fully cover Nolan's nerves, and Amanda was all too aware of how quickly the man guided her into the vehicle and peeled away down the road.

* * *

 

After Millhouse, it was a game of musical chairs.

First Nolan moved into the backseat to sit with Amanda and Denise, letting their driver reclaim the wheel to take them back to the city.

Another switch took place at NolCorp that found Nolan and Amanda alone in his personal car after the driver was tasked with taking Denise back home so she could call it a day.

Had Denise not been married and Nolan not involved, he might've dropped to his knee with a proposal; truly the woman was magnificent.

Denise Walker, consummate professional that she was, merely thanked her employer and promised him a report in the morning. While Nolan and Amanda might be happy just to be reunited, Denise was determined to learn how Amanda had been placed at Millhouse in the first place.

Mr. Ross had been right to be so suspicious.

There was more at play here than any of them knew.

* * *

 

Nolan said goodnight to Denise and then returned to Amanda - now alone, they could finally, really talk.

"Nolan, what's going on?"

"I'm not sure, but then again I can't think straight on an empty stomach." He glanced across the street to a diner and asked, "Are you hungry?"

She was, but she had been so wracked with anxiety during her time in Millhouse that she'd hardly eaten a thing during the length of her stay.

Still, Nolan didn't wait for her answer as he took hold of her hand as they crossed the street, his grip oddly reassuring though Amanda usually rebelled against being treated like a child. Like all early teenagers, she thought of herself as a grown woman.

Well.

Her childhood was over, and any notion of carefree teen years had been trampled under the boots of a SWAT team storming into her home and everything that came after...

_Don't think of that._

The diner was nearly empty, just a few other patrons were scattered throughout the place. Nolan was glad for that, the last thing Amanda would want right now would be a crowd. Nolan lead her to a booth near the back and slid onto the vinyl bench across from her, ordering coffee and a bagel from the visibly tired waitress. It was well past midnight, and while New York never slept, Sheila would rather be doing just that. So tired was she that she barely spared Nolan a glance, assuming he was just a man taking either his daughter or kid sister out for a late night bite. She took the order and pocketed the $20 he slipped her, sparing neither of them another thought.

"You should eat something." Nolan told her, offering half his bagel once it arrived. "It'll be awhile before we get home."

Amanda ignored his offer of food - she was so frustrated she could scream, but Nolan was her friend, he had taken her from Millhouse and as paranoid as she had become, she worried one cross word would have him drag her straight back there, to _that place._

She wouldn't go back to that...that...

She couldn't.

So Amanda forced her voice to stay level and asked him, "We're going to your apartment?"

Nolan looked at her and then glanced back down to his food. "No, ah, I haven't been back there since - well, not since..."

"197. Nolan, dad didn't-"

"I know he didn't. Just like I knew I had to get you out of that place, I know David had nothing to do with what happened." The strength of his conviction could only be matched by Amanda's words in defense of her father - she'd screamed out his innocence for days before finally withdrawing from everyone in Millhouse.

Nolan shook his head. "I haven't been staying in the city. I have a house in the Hamptons."

Her eyes widened. "The Hamptons? That's where we were when the police came."

"Oh, Amanda! I'm sorry, I didn't even think of - as soon as I saw David on the news I rushed out, I wasn't paying any attention to where he was when he was arrested. We don't have to go there, I can get us a hotel room for tonight and then tomorrow-"

"No, Nolan, It's all right. It's fine. I didn't know you had a house out there, I'd like to see it." She said quickly, reassuring him. She was tired, so tired.

She didn't want to go to a hotel, she just wanted everything to _stop_ , she wanted to be in a safe place where she could be settled, where she could think.

Above everything, she wanted her father back. Her father could fix all of this, he would be the one to make the world right again and everything else would fall away like some awful dream.

Nolan gave her a brief smile. His house was a new acquisition, sort of a "stay-cation" investment, he told her. The man was a beach bum at heart and while he liked to travel, he still preferred to stay close enough to NolCorp headquarters in case anything came up that needed his personal attention.

"I love the house. Floor to ceiling windows, an infinity pool and the most amazing view. You know I always envied your father's beach house but I couldn't crash on the couch forever, so I got a place for myself the second I had the chance."

"And now it'll be me sleeping on your couch."

"No, not the couch. I have a room in mind for you."

"I can stay?" Amanda asked. She hadn't expected him to open his home to her past the night - that he was offering her haven was everything.

"Of course. You're like family to me. You'll stay as long as it takes for this to end."

All at once, the dam within her broke and Amanda was overwhelmed, sinking her face into her hands, sobbing heavily. She was trying to speak to him, but with her crying he could hardly make out what she was trying to say.

Nolan glanced around and noticed the looks she was drawing with her upset. "Come on, Amanda, take it easy. People are going to think I just dumped you."

His joke cut through her tears and Amanda snorted out a bark of sobbing laughter.

"Ah, now there's your smile. I knew it wouldn't be gone for long."

Amanda reached across the table and clutched his hands. "Nolan, thank you."

He squeezed her hands back, "What are families for?"

* * *

 

It was another hour on the road before Nolan pulled in and opened the front door, taking in the darkened house. Clearly Marco hadn't been waiting up, but the other man had hardly left their bed in weeks. He would give Amanda the grand tour in the morning. Between the adrenaline of rushing with Denise to Millhouse, rescuing Amanda and then the long drive back home, he was dog tired.

"Marco's upstairs." Nolan told her, voice soft.

"Marco?"

"You've met him a couple times, remember last summer at that party for Grayson Global? He's my...roommate. Just in case you get up before I do and bump into him in the morning." Nolan lied easily; a harmless white lie, really. It was late, and so much had happened, he wasn't in the mood to explain his relationship at the moment.

God knew what he would tell Marco in the morning, he could only pray the other man would understand.

He lead her into the guest room, turning on the light and shrugging. "It's pretty plain, I know. I haven't done any decorating in here but we can go shopping tomorrow. We can paint the walls, pull up the carpet if you want-"

"You don't have to do any of that for me." He had opened his home to her, anything else was too much for her to accept.

"Yes I do." Nolan moved in close and knelt before her on one knee, taking her hands into his. Anyone watching would have thought him a man ready to propose.

Well.

He was ready, but the ring he'd bought wasn't meant for her.

"I'd be nothing without your father, he believed in me when no one else did. I need you to believe in me too. Please Amanda, please believe me when I say, anything you want and anything you need, just say the word and I'll do it for you."

"Will you stay until I fall asleep?"

"Of course."

Nolan moved to sit in the chair set in the corner of the room, shifting around until he was relatively comfortable. Amanda turned off the light and he could hear the rustling of clothes as she took off her shoes, hoodie and jeans, then she got into the bed, settling in for the night.

Nolan put his head back in the chair, figuring he'd cat nap until the morning and then make a plan going forward in the morning. He'd have to explain so much to Marco and make arrangements for Amanda-

He opened his eyes at the quiet, hitched sounds of crying.

_Oh, Amanda._

The man thought nothing of leaving the chair to approach her, climbing atop the bed and spooning up behind her over the covers.

"Amanda, Amanda, it's all right."

The girl rolled over and grasped at him, holding him close and cowering into his chest.

"Nolan, I want my dad." She cried. "I want to go home."

He stroked his hand up and down her back, knowing anything he said would be small comfort. Really, what could be said to reassure a girl who'd had her whole world torn away? Still, he had to try. "I know you do. I know. I'm sorry, your father is the one thing I can't give you now. It may be a long time but Amanda, I promise I'll bring him home. Please, believe me."

And here, with the ashes of the dead in the air and an impossible promise, Nolan would often look back on their first night as the birth of the monster that would become Emily Thorne.


End file.
